


Mr. Campion's Secret

by SpaceTimeConundrum



Series: The Werewolf of Bottle Street [3]
Category: Albert Campion - Margery Allingham
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Spoilers - Sweet Danger, Spoilers - The Fashion in Shrouds, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceTimeConundrum/pseuds/SpaceTimeConundrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Amanda Fitton is a frightfully clever young lady. If Albert Campion isn't careful, she'll end up uncovering all of his secrets. A modest retelling of certain events in the village of Pontisbright and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this and asking yourself "what on Earth is going on here?" then I highly recommend you read my other story _Mr. Campion's Curse_ first, as it explains the central conceit of this AU, namely that Albert Campion is secretly a werewolf, in addition to his other less-than-reputable habits.

_June, 1932_

There were very few individuals capable of overpowering the preternaturally strong Mr. Campion these days. Brett Savanake just happened to be one of those rare specimens.   

Campion had managed to knock the revolver from the man’s hands fairly early in their confrontation, which had unfortunately turned out to be a mistake. He could’ve shrugged off an ordinary bullet wound if it came to it, but Savanake’s impressive size was sufficient to give the ruthless businessman enough of an advantage over his lanky opponent in hand to hand combat that the younger man had been lucky to escape their first encounter at the mill pond alive. If Amanda hadn’t opened the sluices when she did, he might’ve been drowned.

Dazed, and carried swiftly away from the race by the current, he’d been still recovering his wits as he drifted across the pool when he heard the shots. Ignoring the aching of his oxygen-deprived limbs, he scrabbled up the nearest muddy bank and ran back toward the mill.   

Coming in from the open pond side of the large white building, he found his young lieutenant barricaded inside. She was slumped worryingly against a dusty crate next to her stolen prize, clutching at her left arm. He smelt blood and cordite in the musty air.

“Amanda! Are you hurt?”

Campion stepped forward and she fell limp into his arms with a small pained noise that wrenched at his heart. One narrow shoulder felt unusually warm and wet under his hand as he held her. The cause was unmistakable. She'd been shot.

Normally the mildest of men, Campion nearly lost control there and then. A cold fury seized him, bringing his repressed predatory instincts to the fore. After settling her carefully against the far wall, wrapped in his jacket, he went out to face Savanake again with violence on his mind.   

Campion's inner wolf was denied the satisfaction of a proper confrontation that night, however. Instead, the villain’s own haste proved to be his undoing. 

Intent on circling round the mill quickly to catch Amanda before she could escape with the treasure, Savanake had ignored the hurdles placed in front of the rotted gangway over the stream and charged past them. In this instance, unlike earlier, his impressive size had worked against him; he'd immediately plummeted straight through the ancient boards and into the icy water below. Now, he clung feverishly to the remaining planking, fighting against the unrelenting pull of the current. 

He'd fallen behind the grille intended to keep large sticks and other heavy debris out of the wheel. The enormous metal paddle thumped ominously just beyond the reach of his extended legs. 

Realising the gruesome fate in store for the man should his grip fail and blanching at the prospect, Campion abandoned his homicidal intentions and hurried to his aid.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” he called out.

Recognising his voice, but unable to discern the individual words over the roar of the water, Savanake looked up in alarm as the young man made his way over to the broken gangway. Just as Campion reached the hurdle, and was swinging his leg over to straddle the barrier, the trapped man snatched up the revolver which had incredibly fallen just within his reach and levered his arm around to fire up at his would-be rescuer.

Savenake hadn't paused to check his aim, and Campion attempted to duck out of the way at the last second, but the shot still found its mark, striking him in the lower abdomen and passing cleanly through the other side of his hip. Campion fell against the hurdle with a grunt, and lay there gasping for air as the equally painful rush of healing retraced the burning path of the bullet. 

This impulsive reaction cost the desperate man in the water his life. The recoil from the gunshot broke his already weakening grip on the splintering boards and he slipped down into the rushing water with a startled cry.   The churning blades of the mill wheel claimed his body a moment later.

Campion was too preoccupied with his own concerns to notice the tiny, sickening shudder that passed through the building as Savanake met his demise. He'd long ago learned the hard way that intense pain, fear, or anger could trigger an unwanted transformation if he allowed those feelings to overwhelm him. Being shot had very nearly sent him over the edge. Only the thought of Amanda lying hurt and alone in the mill kept him human.

Limping, he dragged himself back to her side, kneeling to examine her again. She looked paler than she ought in the dim light. He put a trembling hand to her cheek and her eyes fluttered open just long enough to catch his gaze. 

"Did we get 'em?" she whispered hopefully, wincing as she tried to move her wounded shoulder.

"Yes. Thanks to you," he told her. 

"Oh, jolly good." Amanda smiled weakly before closing her eyes again. 

Campion scooped her into his arms and was preparing to carry her over to the house when the army arrived to take charge of the situation.

-

Nearly four hours passed before he saw Amanda again. A proper doctor had been brought over from Sweethearting to tend to her and Campion had been detained providing explanations to the military and his faithful associates now that the dangerous business was concluded. By the time the matters of the hidden treasure of the well and the missing church records had been relayed between the triumphant adventurers, Campion was exhausted. 

After bidding the others a heartfelt good night, he ascended the stairs to the first floor, whereupon Aunt Hatt summoned him to Amanda's room before he could retire to his own bed, saying that she'd been asking for him.

He found Amanda propped up in a sea of pillows looking decidedly peaky, but that vibrant spark of her personality had returned. She smiled warmly when he walked in.

"Hullo, Orph. Come to make your report to the Lieut?" she asked him.

He permitted himself a wry smile and nodded, taking a seat at her bedside.

They talked lightly for a little while and, after he'd relayed to her the brief summary of their victory, and she'd made him promise not to let anyone send her off to finishing school once Hal was officially confirmed as the Earl of Pontisbright and came into his estate, their conversation gradually reached a pleasant lull. Amanda took advantage of the momentary pause to examine him shrewdly.

"I say, I think I know why you wouldn't want to mention it to anyone else, lest they get the wrong idea, but I think I've proved you can trust me with the real explanation of what happened tonight," she said.

Campion stiffened in his chair and glanced at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

Amanda sighed. "I saw your eyes when we were in the mill together. And earlier when I told you about Dr. Galley. I know I wasn't imagining things; for just a moment they were different."

Mr. Campion's face became studiously blank, a long ingrained protective habit asserting itself.

"It's all right. I don't mind, whatever it is. I told you, I've grown up with this stuff," she said reasonably, though heaven knew what she meant by that. "I know that you're on our side." 

Campion regarded her seriously from behind his horn rimmed spectacles. He suspected there was a rather substantial difference between familiarity with the folk healing proclivities of Pontisbright's resident eccentric physician and regular encounters with genuine supernatural phenomena. "And what makes you think there's more to tell about tonight's adventure?" he asked her quietly.

"I heard the gunshot right after you left me. And you were limping when you came back into the mill. He got you, didn't he?"

"Very observant for someone nursing a bullet wound of her own," he noted with faint amusement.

She took his comment for the admission it was and grinned. "Well, I am rather good," she said proudly. "And that's just it, isn't it? Here I am, laid up in bed and I see you're walking about perfectly fine now. Come on then, out with it. I promise you won't scare me."

Campion shook his head. "Suffice it to say that you're correct in your assessment that there's slightly more to me than meets the eye. Savanake may have gotten lucky with his parting shot, but I'm a tougher old bird than most. Other than that minor detail, you've had the whole of it already."

Amanda gave him an exasperated look. "If we're to work together, I'll have to learn your secret eventually," she warned him.

He smiled tolerantly at her. "Then I'll tell you someday," he said gently. "Let little Albert retain his air of mystery for now."

Amanda huffed and frowned at him but she was too tired to really argue. He remained at her bedside until she fell asleep and sat in the comfortable darkness thinking for a long while afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic wasn't originally supposed to have a second part, but then this happened. Technically counts as spoilers for the end of _The Fashion in Shrouds_ since I’ve borrowed much of the dialogue from that scene.

_August, 1937_

They sat together in Amanda’s cottage talking quietly, watching the dawn break over the treetops that marked the edge of the meadow on her property. The police had finally left and both Lugg and Hal were upstairs preparing beds for them after what had proved to be a very eventful night. 

Neither of them had acknowledged the elephant in the room. This was the second time she'd witnessed him survive a brush with attempted homicide unscathed.

Amanda glanced sidelong at her companion and wondered if she ought to ask him about his secret again, and if he’d answer honestly this time. 

They’d grown closer over the summer, spending so much time together as they had, she thought. Albert had made an agreeable fiancé while their pretend engagement had lasted, but in the years since she’d last seen him in Pontisbright, he’d changed. 

It was more than just the difference in her own perspective, she knew. He’d lost something of that reckless innocence he’d once had, and in its place had grown a sort of weary cynicism about the world that had pained her to see. He’d played his role as heartbroken lover too well for her not to have an inkling as to what might have caused this change in him.

That subtly guarded way he held himself whenever conversations became too personal, too close to uncovering whatever it was that he was afraid to admit wasn’t new, however. He’d been more open with her than most, she suspected, but he was still hiding something big. It bothered her not to know what it was, even though he hardly owed her any explanation if he wasn’t comfortable giving one.

He looked so tired sitting there, dark circles under his eyes betraying a chronic lack of sleep. This investigation had cost him more than he'd readily admit. Now was hardly the time to interrogate him. She bit her lip and buried the question for another day.

“Say, where did you put my ring?" she asked to distract herself from prying thoughts. "It was Aunt Flo’s, you know, and the stones are thought to be real if not large.”

Campion searched his pockets and, locating it finally, returned the ring to her. Amanda stood by the window and looked at it strangely for a long moment as it lay in her hand, the early morning sunshine reflected by the delicate sapphire stones making blue shapes on her palm.

“Oh, go on, put it on. I’ll be happy to marry you if you care for the idea,” he said, looking up at her fondly. “And then, when I’m fifty and feeling like a quiet life, you can go and fall with a thud for some silly chap who’ll give us both hell.”

Amanda hesitated. She hadn’t been expecting a proposal from him, certainly not one so unromantic, though she supposed that suited them both. “Cake love, you mean?” Her eyes sparkled beneath her brown lashes.

“Call it what you like.” He waved a hand tiredly. “Only, don’t pretend it doesn’t exist or that you’re immune.”

Amanda regarded him with great affection. “Cake makes some people sick,” she said finally. Then she slipped the ring back on her finger without dropping her gaze from his.

“So it does.” Mr. Campion laughed and caught her hand in his own, tugging her back over to his side. She sat on the sofa next to him with a smile. 

"I'll tell you what we'll do. How about we pop this tomorrow and buy some apples to comfort ourselves instead?" she suggested, not entirely serious.

"That's an idea." He patted her hand and sighed contentedly, sinking into the upholstery. “Do you know, Amanda, I’m not sure ‘Comfort’ isn’t your middle name?”

Lugg found them there several minutes later, sound asleep, Amanda’s head resting on Campion’s shoulder and his similarly inclined against hers.


End file.
